A shelter of sorrow (grows in the dark)
by ibuzoo
Summary: It shouldn't be so simple for Tom to invade her personal space again, not after he left her behind three years ago broken in pieces, but Hermione can't find the strength to push him away, neither can she put up her walls high enough to defend herself against his brilliance and handsomeness which effects her on a whole personal level.


**A shelter of sorrow (grows in the dark)**

**Prompt: **Tears

**Rating: **M

**Warnings: **bloody kisses during sex / modern universe /

**Word count: **1042

**Summary: **It shouldn't be so simple for Tom to invade her personal space again, not after he left her behind three years ago broken in pieces, but Hermione can't find the strength to push him away, neither can she put up her walls high enough to defend herself against his brilliance and handsomeness which effects her on a whole personal level.

_(the tears she cried have dried on her cheeks long ago)_

**A/N: **There won't be a happy ending at the end of this story, but it's not an end either. I guess this is the first time i wrote Hermione not joining Tom and it still turned out appropriate for this story.

Also on a personal matter (if anyone really bother to read the A/N at all): Chances may be high that i'll publish my first multi chaptered story in some days (perhaps even in the next two) so when i work on this there will be less frequent prompt updates, just so people know :)

**Disclaimer: **This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

* * *

**o.**

The girl that looks at her from the mirror has debris of tears glistening on her cheeks.

She persuades herself that they're not her own.

_(her lips taste salty)_

**i.**

The moment she opens the door to reveal her tiny flat behind, she notices how his face didn't change at all. _(she bets he thought the same about hers) _

They don't waste any words.

She moves aside and lets him enter.

**ii.**

They were sitting across each other, the dining room table separating them, cups of his favorite tea right before them and when Hermione put too much sugar in his cup he doesn't comment on it, drinks it with his charming, calculated expression that was glued on his face 24/7. She was the first one to break the silence, clears her throat and asks, "So you're back in town?"

If it was possible, Hermione could swear his grin went even a tad darker as he nods, answers, "Obviously."

"What brings you back?"

"Business."

"Business." She repeats the word as if she wants to test it on her lips, but her sarcasm taints it so it sounds strangely odd. She observes how his eyebrow elegantly curves upwards, clearly amused. For a second she asks herself if she should demand the nature of his business, but after some consideration she drops the question. Tom is a killer, or criminal mastermind as he loves to call himself, and Hermione's moral compass should mind it more as it does - and that's what bothers her the most. There's another moment of silence before she breaks it again, asks, "So, this business of yours…how long will it last?"

"A time."

'_Here we go'_, she thought, annoyed as she exhaled loudly, '_Leave it to Tom Riddle to be as vague as possible.' _He didn't seem to mind her growing annoyance at all, if anything**,** he seems far more amused.. His fingers dance along the body of his cup, tapping against the ceramic in a changing rhythm and it takes a while until she gets the song he's playing on imaginary ivories, the meaning behind it. _(it's the same that played the first time they met in the small café near Kensington Garden)_

He rises from the chair and rounds the table like a predator, his eyes never leaving hers and Hermione knows how this will end.

**iii.**

The last time Hermione made her choice, Tom walked away.

She should, of course, be the one to do the same now.

**iv.**

It shouldn't be so simple for Tom to invade her personal space again, not after he left her behind three years ago broken in pieces, but Hermione can't find the strength to push him away, neither can she put up her walls high enough to defend herself against his brilliance and handsomeness which effects her on a whole personal level.

**v.**

_(the tears she cried have dried on her cheeks long ago)_

**vi.**

Hermione's spinal hits the mattress and not even all the cushions can chasten the loud moans that escape her lips, her fingers digging into the sheets, tugging at them while her legs coil around Tom's hips like snakes, pushing him closer with the heels of her feet. His grin plays at the sensitive skin on her neck, teeth dragging over her pulse while his finger already opens the buttons on her jeans, pushing them off her silky legs, throwing them on the floor so he could start to unbutton his own shirt. Her own hands can't stand still and she tries to help him, but she's impatient and rips off a button on his collar. A frustrated groan escapes her lips and she bites down to suppress it, tears the thin layer of skin on it. The blood smears over her teeth and tongue and Tom kisses her deep and hard, devours her mouth and sucks at the little scratch to drink droplets of her bittersweet blood. Hermione moans into his lips and rips at his hair, pushes down her knickers with the other free hand and she thinks, frustrated, '_Fuck.'_

She was not supposed to lose control this fast.

**vii.**

_(she was not supposed to lose control at all)_

**viii.**

She lays in her sheets, hours later, and watches how Tom gets up and dresses, pushes his hair in his usual perfect appearance. He bends down and kisses her again, once, twice, and leaves with a promise to return tomorrow.

She asks herself if her lips still taste salty from the tears she spilled the last time he promised the same.

**ix.**

Tom does return the following night.

And the night after.

And the night after that.

He falls back into her life patterns with ease and it should scare her how easily she accepts her fate, again.

_(she knows it's just a matter of time until he'll leave again, but the moment he enters the room she banishes everything else from her mind)_

**x.**

He stays during the autumn until the nights grow longer and the first snow heralds on greyish skies. There's a shift in his composure, the way his shoulders tense up or the way his eyes drill in hers as if he wants to engrave her appearance in his mind.

She knows it will end soon.

**xi.**

It lasts for another week.

He comes to her flat and she knows it the moment Tom lifts her up and kisses her even more desperate than usual. His fingers dig in the small of her back, on her hips and he butchers her lips, the line of her jaw and it feels like, as if he wants to mark any millimeter of her skin. She doesn't want to think about the end of this.

So she closes her eyes and tugs him even closer.

**xii.**

She presses her eyes close when she feels him rise from the bed, tries to keep her breath even and steady when she feels his cold chapped lips on her cheek. It's hard to fake sleep with tears burning behind her eyelids, but if Tom notices he doesn't comment on it.

He stays silent and leaves.

_(the first tear spills the moment the door falls close behind him)_

**xiii.**

Her lips taste salty again.


End file.
